


E Is For The End

by Izhilzha



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, Gen, Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-23
Updated: 2009-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:03:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izhilzha/pseuds/Izhilzha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a shift, and suddenly he can't feel much of anything. Jacob Carter, at the end of "Reckoning, Pt. 2," additional spoilers for "Threads."</p>
            </blockquote>





	E Is For The End

**Author's Note:**

> Written for sg-fignewton's [Jacob Alphabet Soup](http://sg-fignewton.livejournal.com/134899.html).

There's a shift, and suddenly he can't feel much of anything. There's something solid and cool under his arms, his chest (possibly why he's not flat on his back on the floor), and an echoing distortion that's messing with his senses, screwing with his information uptake.

He can't breathe, for a long moment.

Sam--Samantha--is next to him, then, asking what happened.

"I don't know," he tells her, and that's the moment he does know.

He gets his feet more or less under himself and stands there while she goes off to check things out. Makes himself take deliberate breaths. Leans on the stone of the weapons console, trying to regain his balance. Trying, trying to get used to the sense of negative space that's short-circuiting everything. It's familiar, but it's been almost six years since he lived like this, and God, it's disturbing.

_I'm sorry, I'm so sorry_, he catches himself thinking. _I should never have asked this of you. Never._ It's a lie. He couldn't have done anything else. Selmak would be the first to tell him that. It was only tradition and generosity (and love) that had prompted any other suggestion.

And then weeks of repeated argument, since he could be as stubborn about using their shared gifts to the last moment as Old Wise One could be about sparing the life of his host.

The needs of the many, though; they both understood that. The arguments had ended in shared purpose.

And they were right. They had won.

That soaring thought finds no echo, dropping into the void without even a subconscious response.

_Selmak. Please._ He hasn't used his name for years, not between the two of them, not in their own head. It does no good now; he's begging an almost-corpse, and he knows better.

It's just so lonely in here.


End file.
